Stumble
by muggleborn.dragon.ryder
Summary: How hard it must be to try so hard and still fail. AU. One-shot.


**_Stumble_**

**Newest one-shot, I guess? I'm not very good at drawing, but I was randomly doodling Hiccup and I drew him on his knees and I wrote around him, 'how hard it must be to try so hard and still fail'. Because angst :)**

* * *

Stumble. Bleed. Pain. Comfort. Clumsy. Fail. Fail. Failure. Pain. Pain. Tears. Blurry vision. Failure. Failure. Pain. Tears. Blood. Stumble. Scars.

Never looking anybody quite in the eye. Voices echoing in his head and he can't shut them out and he can't stop them.

Taunting him. Making him wish that the situation was reversed. Making the tears sting his eyes. Making him dig his fingernails into his palms.

His head dropping into his hands. More tears pouring freely from his eyes. It doesn't matter. It all doesn't matter. He is going to die soon anyway. Who could miss somebody like him? Useless. Freak. Fail. Fail. Failure.

_I failed everyone, _he thinks miserably to himself. Tears sting his eyes, clinging to his lashes. _I'm so sorry, guys…_

Footsteps. He hears them. He sits up straight. He tries to make it seem like he's okay. He tries to smile. He tries to sit up and pretend.

Thunder rumbles distantly outside. Like he cares. Why should the weather matter? Everything he cares about is gone. Everything he cares about is dead.

And the funny thing is – because, yes, there is, indeed, a funny side to losing everything you care about – the funny side is, it's all his fault.

Even when he tried his hardest, he still failed. Big whoop. He's a hiccup. Of course he's going to fail.

Developing a thick skin to comments like these haven't been easy, but he thinks he's finally managed.

The door flies open. A man walks in. Hiccup knows the man's name. Alvin the Treacherous sits down carefully on the bed beside him, taking in the broken boy, the last enemy he has. Nobody else can stand against him once this boy is gone. But why bother killing him? Alvin wonders. The boy is already broken. The boy will not try to stand against him. Maybe he thinks Alvin can't hear him, but he does. He's listened to this boy sob late at night in the forest too many times not to know; the boy is hopeless. Broken beyond repair. Nothing could fix him.

Hiccup thinks he is doing a great job of hiding things from Alvin the Treacherous. He hasn't looked anyone in the eye for seven days straight now and he hasn't touched food since then, either. This is why Alvin is not ending it yet. Hiccup is going to end it himself. He's killing himself slowly. The best part for the Outcasts is, the boy doesn't even seem to care.

He has not spoken to anybody but Alvin. He keeps quiet and he keeps to himself. He has never openly told Alvin anything, but the man knows. He looks into that little boy's eyes and he knows. Those eyes carry pain untold. Those eyes tell a story. Those eyes tell the story of a boy who lost everything.

For a time, it seemed that the boy was going to grow to be quite a remarkable Viking. He was small and unlikely, of course, but he had a temper on him that flared to life often and Alvin had found himself quite liking it. But now it was clear that the boy was no more useful to him than a broken axe.

It wasn't pity that led Alvin to letting him stay. It was satisfaction. The last Hooligan of Berk was dying slowly and he didn't seem to care. The Hooligans of Berk had once been a strong people; but it was clear that this boy didn't carry the same strength. He was weak and, now that he believed that there was nothing left for him, he was allowing himself to get it all out before he passed.

Alvin wasn't proud to call him an Outcast; he wasn't proud of the boy. He didn't feel anything towards him except a kind of vague interest. The son of his enemy was on his island, dying slowly and he didn't even know it.

His eyes were lifeless. They no longer shone or sparkled. The boy who had had hope throughout everything else had given up.

It has been two weeks now and every day Alvin wakes up and he remembers how he found the boy…

_The boy huddles on the sand, hopelessly alone. His green eyes flicker over each and every Outcast in pronounced mistrust, like he has been told to watch out for them. No matter. Every tribe tells the children to watch out for the Outcasts. They are feared – not respected, feared._

_Alvin cannot help with getting the boat back on track. The men at first tried to lie and say they would get the boat out within a couple minutes, but it's holed badly and it's clear they're not leaving anytime soon. He sits down on the sand as he watches his men struggle to lift the unwieldy boat onto the shore. He's very near the boy, so close he could reach out and touch him if he wanted. He sits there and he looks out to sea, but he's intensely aware of the boy watching him in suspicion. Like he's afraid of the man._

_As well he should be, Alvin thinks to himself proudly and he waits for the boy to walk away or tug his own boat offshore and set off, but the boy doesn't get up. He just keeps staring. And eventually, it annoys Alvin so much that the man has to acknowledge it. "Eyes off, won't you?!" he growls, turning his gaze on the boy. And then his eyes widen and he gasps, because the boy is not what he expects. He's not just some random Viking. Ordinarily, a pair of eyes, no matter how beautiful, wouldn't catch the Outcast chief's eye, and these emerald greens are certainly beautiful indeed. It isn't just the eyes, however – it's the exact shade of emerald green and the rich russet color of his hair, slightly dulled by ash and soot, which clouds the scene. It's the freckles on his face, the narrow chin, the rounded nose, the stiff set of his jaw, the scrawny, skinny shoulders…_

_Alvin recognizes it all. That rich auburn color was a color only seen in Stoick the Vast's beard…that shade of green was only seen in Stoick's eyes…that stiff set of the jaw was only used by Stoick when he wanted to hide the pain…that rounded nose resembled Stoick's so closely…_

_Alvin realizes that he has the son of Stoick the Vast out here all alone and the boy hasn't moved an inch. He just keeps staring at Alvin through lifeless eyes, like the man's outburst has done nothing on him. Like he…isn't even there…_

_Alvin looks down at him and suddenly it occurs to him what a grand idea it would be to get a person from Berk on his side, most specifically the son of the chief. "What's your name, anyway, lad?"_

_The boy keeps staring at him, his green eyes slightly out of focus and it occurs to Alvin that he might not know how to speak. He was banished long before the little runt was born, after all…was he born mute? "Can…can you talk?" he whispers, trying to sound kind and gentle, like he understands. Maybe if he does that, the boy will answer._

_The boy's eyes shift back into focus for half a second. He stares at Alvin with no recognition, no fear in his gaze. Nothing. There's no sign of life in his eyes. It's as if he is dead. For a brief moment, Alvin wonders if he is – is the boy even breathing? He slowly waves a hand in front of the boy's face and he flinches back. He falls back onto his elbows and shoots upward and now there's something in his eyes: rage. Undeniable, unquenchable rage. And Alvin is pleased. Because he's finally getting a response. "What did you do that for?!" the boy demands angrily, like Alvin has just done something unforgivable. He stares at Alvin for a long second and then, to the man's utter surprise, shock and astonishment, the boy actually begins to cry. He just bursts into tears with no warning or sign that he's about to – suddenly tears are dripping out of the lifeless eyes and he doesn't appear quite so lifeless. He doubles over, hands wrapped around his middle, hugging himself, like the emotional pain he feels is so bad, it's almost like a physical wound._

_The boy's small shoulders shake with the sobs and Alvin finds himself at an utter loss for what to do, what to say…_

_He feels a bit of pity tug on his heartstrings as he recognizes this little boy, crying and sobbing his heart out. It isn't the son of his most feared enemy. It's just a little boy, one who looks a lot like he did, at that age, all gawky and gangly and awkward, getting angry over the smallest things, yelling and crying and screaming about everything and nothing._

_He shakes off the pity, because he doesn't know what it means to feel compassion. No, he doesn't. Alvin the Treacherous has a heart made out of stone. "What are you crying for, boy?" he demands aggressively and the boy just gives another sob._

"_I…I…" the boy gives a little hiccup and suddenly it pops into Alvin's head that he heard the name of the boy before – has he forgotten it that easily? Something about the little hiccup that slipped out of his mouth reminds him of it…is his name really Hiccup? He stares down at the crying boy._

"_I…" the boy sniffs deeply and wipes at his nose, offering the man a look. His green eyes are suddenly the bright, striking emerald they once were, but they're filled with pain now. It's hard to see the sparkle that used to always lurk there, because now it's hidden by the shining tears._

_Alvin waits for him to reply, but it seems like that's all the boy is going to say, so he glances around the deserted island. "Are you alone here?"_

_The boy's shoulders are still shaking with tears as he nods. "I am now," he whispers. It makes Alvin wonder if the boy ever had family or a tribe…and what happened to it? The ashy soot that's still falling from the sky also makes him wonder…_

"_I'm sorry you're alone," Alvin tells him, deciding to go for comforting rather than threatening. Maybe he really did want to threaten the boy and just didn't want to get on his bad side too soon; or maybe, somewhere in that cold heart of his, he really did feel pity for the kid. Who knows? _

"_It's…it's all my f-fault," the boy whispers, swiping almost angrily at his eyes. "I…I can't…" he takes a deep breath, like he's trying to compose himself and then the façade slips._

"_What's your fault? What's your fault?" Alvin whispers, leaning in closer to the boy to hear the shaky words._

_The boy whispers his name. He whispers his tribe. He whispers his island. He rocks back and forth on the dirty sand, whimpering and repeating things about how he is alone and it is all his fault. _

_Alvin remembers asking if he had been banished. The boy shakes his head. It takes awhile, but he gets the main points out of him. The boy says there was an explosion. He says there were no survivors. And now that he looks around, the man sees that the boy is telling the truth. There are bits of clothing scattered on the ground. He hesitates to point this out to the boy, who seems to think that the explosion was all his fault. He tells how the people in his village were standing there watching it happen and how he only wanted to protect them. And how he failed. He collapses back onto the ground and sobs. Deep, gut-wrenching sobs that are painful to hear._

_And maybe Alvin does feel a bit of pity. Because he takes the boy's chin in his hands and whispers to him that there is a place for failures and screw-ups. The boy looks like he isn't sure what to believe. Alvin leaves him there to think on that and goes over to help his men._

The pity has evaporated since then. If Alvin ever feels it, he only sternly reminds himself that this boy is the son of his worst enemy, who now appears dead – and by his own son's hand! Of course, he hasn't gotten everything out of the boy yet – he pries a little more often now that he sees the boy isn't telling; he doesn't want the story to die with him.

Hiccup sits on the wooden bed, poking at the blanket. When he lifts his eyes back to Alvin, they are brimming with tears. Alvin feels that familiar tug of pity – and then he sternly tells himself that he feels nothing. Nothing.

But it's killing him to watch somebody die slowly and not even care. He studies the boy and slowly presses. He gently presses the fading, invisible bruises, turning them a rich purple. He rubs salt into the boy's open cuts.

The boy looks down and mumbles. He is thinking back.

_Pressing down on the dragon's tail fin and begging, begging, begging…no please…no, please…don't let this be the end, don't let it be the end, no, no, no, please…and he beats the tail fin just hard enough and they escape the chunky tail. But that's when the fin slips off entirely and Hiccup falls out of the saddle. Toothless' eyes bug out as he sees his human falling into the flames, struggling just to breathe and without thinking or considering his own life, the dragon flies after him. Hiccup is completely encased in the dragon's cool wings for a few seconds and he hears muffled explosions all around him. A faint ringing noise comes into his ears with how loud they are. They hit the ground hard and even through the muffled and distant explosions, Hiccup hears a bone in the Night Fury's wing snap; although dragon skin is much tougher and thicker than human skin, Toothless' bones were lighter, enabling him to fly._

_Hiccup winces at the sound of the broken bone. There is a loud crash right beside his ear. And then all is still. The dragon moans, leaning down to nuzzle him. And then the dragon goes completely limp as well. Hiccup pokes his head out from the dragon's wings, stumbling through thick, ashy smoke and coughing a little as he calls. "Toothless?" he turns to his dragon, to thank him. But the dragon is completely still. And then a terrible, horrible thought strikes Hiccup and he falls to his knees in front of the beast with a short, sharp cry. "T-Toothless," he stutters, warning the fear that's clenching his heart to stay down, "T-toothless, are you alright?"_

_There is no response. Hiccup gently touches the dragon's snout and there is no answering moan. The wings are bent at an odd angle, pulled tight behind his back…and his side is not moving up and down. The dragon's eyes flutter open and he slowly stands. His wings are bent. He tries to stretch them and falls back to the ground. He wraps the boy in his paws, licking his face. And then he goes limp._

_All is silent behind him and to him. Nobody's speaking. He doesn't even think anybody's breathing. He turns to go look at his father, saying, before he even looks, "Dad, dad, surely…there has to be something we can do for him, I mean, please…?" his voice breaks. Because his dad is not behind him. No one is behind him. He stands up. He stumbles through the thick smoke. He looks around. There is a small piece of Stoick's cloak fluttering in the air. Hiccup stares at it for a long time. One of his dad's weapons is laying on the ground, scratched and scarred and abandoned. A few rusted Viking helmets are the same way, scuffed and beaten from the explosion, but not yet dead. He falls to his knees as reality hits him, as he realizes that there is nothing for him anymore and he must run…but run another time…he cannot bear to leave the dragon who gave his life for his alone._

_He uses his father's axe to dig the hole. The dirt is damp, soft. The rain falls like tears on the damp, open grave as Hiccup slowly, slowly put Toothless down in it. Tears fall down his cheeks, mixing with the rain. Sobs catch in his throat. He is all alone. He is all alone. He has lost everything. He is all alone._


End file.
